


Driving Slow on Sunday Morning

by irinokat



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Wake-Up Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 16:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irinokat/pseuds/irinokat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's easy to go fast, to want to rush things, but sometimes it's early morning and Newt can take it slow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving Slow on Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> So this is basically just smut, not even gonna try to justify it. Tried to write it a bit differently from the previous porny stuff I've written, see if I (and y'all) like it and can write something that isn't just fast, desperate fucking. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it. Title taken from "Sunday Morning" by Maroon 5. (The fact that this is being published on a Sunday is entirely coincidental.)

Newt groaned and shoved his head back into the pillow when he saw what time it was. Six in the morning? Really? What asshole decided the sun needed to rise before ten? What asshole decided that he would wake up the second sunlight hit his face, and that he would stay awake until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer the following night? And that was if he was lucky and the insomnia didn’t strike.

After spending several minutes with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to convince his brain that it should definitely get more rest, he propped himself up on one elbow and glanced over at Hermann. The other man lay on his back, one hand buried under his pillow, the other resting on his stomach. Newt envied his ability to drop down like a dead man every night and stay that way until he was good and ready to wake up. That didn’t stop him from being cranky in the morning, stomping around the kitchen and mumbling complaints under his breath while waiting for the water for his tea to boil, but at least he didn’t stay grouchy from sleep deprivation.

Hermann’s shirt had rucked up over his stomach at some point in the night, his hand resting on the bare skin it normally covered. It had taken a month for Newt to convince him to wear some old, overlarge t-shirts to bed like a normal person instead of the grandpa flannels he’d moved in with. He still couldn’t get him to sleep shirtless unless he was too exhausted to put one on. Sometimes he even made Newt put a nightshirt on, complaining that the tattoos were far too bright to lay eyes on first thing in the morning, even though Newt was rarely still in bed when Hermann woke up.

Newt wondered why on occasion. He knew Hermann liked the tattoos, liked tracing their outlines even when he had to slide his hands under a shirt to do it. He never really felt like asking, though. What little he’d seen of Hermann’s past love life had made him uncomfortable asking for details, and they were able to negotiate things just fine as it was. Not everything he liked was something that he wanted to explain, or even things that made sense in his own mind. He couldn’t say why he enjoyed being pinned to a wall, or called filthy names, or gagged and bound, even if Hermann asked. And thankfully, Hermann’s only questions were, “How do I do this?” or “Does this feel right?”

Speaking of negotiating, there were some things they’d talked about but hadn’t tried yet… Newt looked at the clock again. Fifteen ‘til seven. He sighed. Hermann wouldn’t kill him for waking him up this early, at least. It was a Sunday; he could go back to sleep if he needed to. Newt leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. If Hermann felt it, he didn’t show it.

Newt slung his arm over Hermann’s chest and his leg over Hermann’s good one, trying not to let his full weight pin Hermann. His hip brushed Hermann’s cock, feeling it under the layers of clothing between them, already half hard. He smiled and licked up Hermann’s jaw, kissing back down the same line before turning his attention to Hermann’s pale neck. It was difficult to resist the urge to go ahead and shove his hand down Hermann’s pants.

In the first few months after the Breach was destroyed, their relationship had tumbled forward in a wild, erratic way, in no way helped by losing their jobs and the subsequent shutting down of the Shatterdome within a month of Raleigh and Mako’s success. They would discuss job offers in the morning, try to clean the lab in the afternoon, end up fucking fast and hard like desperate teenagers on Hermann’s desk by evening, start shouting at each other again by dinner, and fall in bed after, too exhausted from years of overworking to know how to do anything different. 

Then, once they had decided on Oxford, Newt had been thrown into the bits of coupling he hadn’t had to think about in years; moving in together, cooking, taking care of an entire apartment (flat, Hermann insisted, they were in England), negotiating when to have sex and how to have it and when Hermann really needed to sleep, dammit. Everything with them had shot along at such a frantic pace that Newt sometimes forgot that they weren’t still waiting for the world to end.

He didn’t mind it. Newt was an impatient man at the best of times, he liked fast, he liked rough, he liked moving before he had time to think, and the pace of the world before the Breach closed had suited that. But now the world wasn’t locked into a state of urgency, and the little piece of Hermann buried in the back of his mind during the drift constantly reminded him that he didn’t have to keep moving at breakneck speed now. He could take it slow, needed to before he ran straight into a brick wall.

And now, trying not to wake Hermann up too soon was a good time to practice going slow.

He slid his hand up Hermann’s shirt, pushing it further up until most of Hermann’s chest was exposed. His skin was still pale; Newt would drag him out onto the balcony some once the weather turned warmer for the summer. (“English summers involve more rain than warmth,” Hermann had said once. Newt just blew a raspberry at him and reminded him it was better than their three years in Anchorage.) He slid down and rubbed his hands up and down Hermann’s sides, enjoying the feel of his muscles. Hermann wasn’t built, not at all, but years of physical therapy for his leg and attempts to stay fit had kept his thin frame on this side of healthy, unlike Newt’s, well, flab. 

Newt kissed the length of his sternum as he circled Hermann’s nipple with his thumb. It hardened as he teased it. He smiled as he felt Hermann shift under him, responding to the touch. He glanced up; Hermann’s eyes were still closed. He licked and kissed his way down Hermann’s stomach, feeling Hermann’s cock twitch and harden under him as he worked.

As his hands slid down to Hermann’s hips, Newt forced himself to stay away from Hermann’s erection. He pushed his fingers under the legs of Hermann’s boxers, gently massaging his thighs. From what he could feel through their connection, Hermann’s leg wasn’t acting up any more than usual, but Newt still took extra care with it, digging his thumb into the spots that normally caused the most problems just in case.

Hermann began to shift and stir as Newt hooked his fingers under the soft fabric of his boxers. He paused, looking up at Hermann’s face, but smiled when he realized Hermann hadn’t even opened his eyes. He rubbed Hermann’s hip, slipping slowly towards his ass. His other hand pressed against Hermann’s stomach, fingertips brushing the hand already lying there, and slid down, over smooth skin and sparse hair, finally curling around Hermann’s cock. 

Hermann’s eyes opened as Newt ran his hand up Hermann’s shaft. Newt took his cock into his mouth before he could think or see Hermann react. All he got in response is a little gasp, but that’s enough. He swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before sliding down and swallowing. Hermann’s thighs tensed under him. He tried to smile, not an easy thing to do with his mouth full, and drew himself back up to Hermann’s tip, dragging his tongue along the underside of his shaft.

As he slowly bobbed up and down, Hermann propped himself up on his elbow. Newt could feel his eyes watching him, moaned when he pressed a hand into Newt’s hair. He didn’t get rough as he sometimes did, shoving Newt’s head down or trying to control his pace; instead, he occupied himself playing with Newt’s hair, smoothing it down where sleep had made it stick up, occasionally clenching his fingers or gently tugging when Newt tried something new with his tongue.

Hermann sat up fully, curling forward, as he got close to his climax. Newt moved his hand from Hermann’s ass to his stomach, gently pushing him back down, thinking calming thoughts at him, hoping it would slip through. It was hard to tell what went through their drift connection and what didn’t, even after a few months of experimenting and getting used to it. Whether it worked or not, Herman laid back down, grabbing a pillow with his free hand. Newt smiled and pushed himself down as far as he could go, Hermann’s cock brushing against the back of his throat. 

Hermann barely got the pillow over his head before Newt swallowed around him. He pressed the pillow into his face, stifling his shout as he came. Newt stayed on him until he was finished, licking him clean. He let Hermann’s spent cock drop from his mouth with a soft pop and crawled up him, kissing his stomach as he went. He pulled the pillow away from Hermann’s face, admiring the shape of his open mouth. He nuzzled Hermann’s neck as he wrapped himself around the thinner man’s body. Hermann’s hand rubbed his back as he came down, breathing becoming more even, pulse slowing. “D’you like it?” Newt murmured.

“I’m certainly awake now.” Newt shook his head as Hermann, as usual, danced around a straight answer. “It was… a bit too early in the morning.”

Newt picked his head up to glare at Hermann. His looks weren’t nearly as intense as Hermann’s scowls, but he hoped he could get the point across instead of looking like an angry teddy bear, as Hermann sometimes put it. Hermann’s lips curled up into a grin. “It was nice,” Hermann said.

“Nice?” Newt echoed, annoyed.

“I enjoyed it. I’m just… just not used to it.” Hermann ran his fingers through Newt’s hair again. “Perhaps we should try it a few more times. Just to see.” He gave Newt a genuine smile. “Thank you. It was rather… pleasant to wake up to, if a bit mystifying.”

“Not sure what’s so strange about a mouth on your dick,” Newt said, rolling his eyes.

Hermann sat up. “Having it happen first thing in the morning is odd.” He slid his long fingers over Newt’s chest, down to his stomach, stopping just before he reached Newt’s boxer-briefs and the obvious bulge under them. “Now I believe we can agree that this, at least, isn’t strange.” Newt wasn’t sure if he meant his erection, or Hermann’s hand diving under his underwear and massaging his cock, but either way, he liked it.


End file.
